


Immunity

by SilverLinings



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, also suicide trigger warning, i wasnt sure if i should tag it as major character death or not since its only a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLinings/pseuds/SilverLinings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You're okay. We're okay.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immunity

**Author's Note:**

> So just fyi, this takes place in The Death Cure but I promise there are no spoilers for the book. The main events are all changed so it won't spoil a thing.
> 
> [Credit](http://teresarachel.tumblr.com/post/83168550902/wh-at-if-minho-had-been-the-one-who-wasnt-immune)

The long list of names is called out, Thomas and Newt’s names included. Thomas shouts out, a giant grin on his face. He turns to Newt and they embrace each other, holding each other tight. That one hug spoke a thousand words, but of all of them, only four were important.

 

'You're okay, we're okay.'

 

Looking over at Minho, Thomas’s mouth spread in a grin. Minho starts to smile back at him but it doesn’t quite look as sincere as he’d pictured it to be.

 

“Well isn’t that shucking fantastic,” Minho said, his eyes flickering to the ground before returning to Thomas’s.

 

It wasn’t until then that it dawned on Thomas and Newt that Minho’s name was never called.

 

***

 

Minho was glad that he kept his sanity as long as he did. He was fine for a long time, words getting jumbled occasionally, but overall he was good. None of that excused the fact that he was terrified. Minho was terrified of not being himself and of what would come in those final moments as everything slipped out of his grasp.

 

He did what he always did when he was scared - he hid.

 

“I’ll go crank on you shuck-faces and kick your ass,” he would say, his tone light and friendly to Newt and Thomas but inside Minho was shaking. The words were hiding the fact that he couldn’t control any of what was happening even this one little bit and and he knew what was eventually coming.

 

***

 

They got to Denver and Minho was informed that they tested for the flare, making it impossible for them to get him inside. He was mad and angry, and he turned away from Newt, slamming his fist into the wall of the berg. It hurt like hell, his hand felt like it was on fire but he didn’t care at all, not one little bit.

 

Newt rushed over and rested one hand on Minho’s shoulder, his other on Minho’s cheek.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Newt said quietly, swallowing hard as a lump started forming in his throat. Minho nodded his head, deciding he ought to lie low if he wanted to keep out of the way of W.I.C.K.E.D. for as long as he could. Newt took his hand, promising him over and over again that he’d come out and keep him company whenever he could. Minho tried to smile but his attempt was weak and extremely embarrassing.

 

***

 

Minho grew tired of the walls over the berg, feeling like the plain metal and its repetitiveness was driving him closer to madness than the flare itself.

 

He decided it was time to leave.

 

He fleetingly thought of Newt and about writing him a good-bye note. Minho knew that it was the smart thing to do, to give peace to Newt since he couldn’t wait any longer to do it in person. And although he wanted to write to Newt, he couldn’t find any paper or the sanity to keep him looking.

 

He left the berg and didn’t look back once.

 

***

 

It had only been a day since they left Minho in the berg but when Newt arrived at the berg he knew instantly that Minho had ditched the place. He wandered around, searching for some sign of Minho, anything, but unsurprisingly came up short. Even so, Newt was hurt that Minho never even bothered to say anything or to leave something for Newt to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault.

 

Newt and Thomas ended up roaming the woods outside of the Denver walls, grabbing a gun for protection before leaving and hoping to stumble across Minho or some sign of him.

 

They found him later that night. He was walking in circles around a tree, mumbling to himself about how that leaf there looked familiar.

 

***

 

They decide that it wasn’t safe enough to leave Minho alone to himself and they started to steer the berg away. Minho wasn’t too happy about being locked inside, complaining the whole way, but at least he was starting to sound like himself again. He wasn’t completely gone.

 

***

 

Minho snapped again and again.

 

It starts first with talking to himself, mumbling about nonsense to an imaginary figure next to him. Newt wasn’t alarmed yet, once he snapped Minho out of his daze Minho is coherent and sane, it’s just those moments where he loses touch with reality.

 

It gets harder each time. It’s slow, and sometimes Newt’s voice isn’t enough to bring him back. Next best is a gentle touch to the shoulder. When that stopped working and Newt gets anxious, slowly watching MInho fall apart, he shakes him. It takes a couple of seconds but Minho comes to, his eyes clearing and for just a second, the pain and terror is visible all over Minho’s face. The next couple of times Newt kisses his cheeks and face softly, everywhere, his own tears smearing against Minho’s face. When Minho realizes what’s happening, he cries too.

 

The next time is worse. Newt wasn’t there right away so Thomas tries to help. He isn’t used to the way Minho reacts and isn’t sure what to do.

 

“Calm down,” he says, trying to make his voice into something gentle. Minho rounds on him, his face contorted with anger and his hands flailing erratically.

 

“Just because you’re the shucking chosen one or whatever doesn’t mean you get to order me around with all your klunk!” Minho yells. Thomas tries to stutter out a response but can’t, instead backing up and away from Minho. Thankfully, Newt comes in then, knowing much more than Thomas could ever try to understand on what he can do to snap Minho out.

 

“Hey, hey, Min, don’t give up, it’ll be okay.” Newt said, crouching lower and looking up into Minho’s eyes. He wasn’t met with any of the normal things that were usually in Minho’s eyes, none of the understanding or that post-daze confusion, it was just anger.

 

“Don’t give up?” He sneered, pushing Newt’s shoulders and forcing him backwards.

 

“Wow, you’re one to talk. How’d you get that limp again?”

 

Newt grounded his feet, the words trickling through his mind slowly. It took him a second to process what Minho had said and even less time to throw a punch. He wasn’t even sorry when he watched Minho cup the side of his face.

 

“Get your shit together,” Newt yelled back, his chest heaving.

 

Minho stood upright and took a step towards Newt. It was like a test, daring Newt to step backwards but Newt refused. Minho’s irritation rose and he threw his own punch, the blow knocking Newt back on his butt, the gun that he carried in his belt falling out and scattering across the floor.

 

Minho stepped over and grabbed it, a smirk coming to his face. He pointed it between Thomas and Newt; looking down and smirking at the dumbstruck faces. The fear and disbelief on their faces were priceless and Minho enjoyed every second.

 

Then his mind cleared.

 

Minho remembered what he had just said, his smirk disappearing. He knew, right there and then that he couldn’t hide it anymore. He finally admitted to himself that perhaps he was no longer sane. All memories of the old Minho were just simply memories. He was gone. The guy that everyone could look up to was gone. He was now just another crank that they’d fought off time after time. He was no different.

 

Newt stood at the door and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but the only thing that came out was a choking sound. His eyes were streaming, the tears kept falling like they’d never stop. It was a look that Minho hadn’t seen on Newt in years. It was so heartbreaking. He remembered after Newt’s jump how broken up he’d been. Minho was the one that sat with him through every hard moment and now, to be the cause of that same look was more than Minho could handle.

 

He turned his attention to Thomas then. He was shaking, his hand outstretched to Minho in a defensive yet calming sort of gesture. It was obvious how terrified Thomas was.   
  
“Minho, don’t. Don’t do this.” Thomas whispered.

 

“I won’t.”

 

Minho’s eyes filled with tears, his own hand shaking too.

 

For once, since the moment he’d been told he wasn’t immune, Minho’s head was completely clear. He felt the same as when he’d been running. He felt sane, he felt sure of himself.

 

He turned the gun on himself.

  
Minho took one last breath and then pulled the trigger.


End file.
